


A Place for the Night

by voiceless_terror



Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [7]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: After Ep 102, And Very Hungry, Breakdown/Panic Attack, Day Seven, Gen, Jon Realizes He's Homeless, M/M, TMAHC Week, season three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror
Summary: After being with the circus for a month, Jon realizes he has little to go back to and asks for help with mixed results.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893808
Comments: 27
Kudos: 353





	A Place for the Night

**Author's Note:**

> For Day Seven: Breakdown/ Home.

Ironically, after all he’d been through, it was the credit card that set him off.

He’d returned from the circus and gone straight into a confrontation with Elias and Melanie, no time to breathe or decompress. And then he’d been ushered right back down to the archives for a statement, Melanie angrily giving him a wide berth and the other assistants ignoring him, now used to his long absences. The only one who seemed to care was Martin, but he’d shut his mouth upon an openly hostile glare from Melanie. Sometimes her volatility had its uses.

But after his statement, he’d realized he was deeply, achingly hungry. This was not surprising- the circus had forgotten to feed him on most days, and whatever they did bring him was either inedible or much past its prime. He learned to get used to the gnawing hunger. But now he thought he deserved a bit of real food, deserved to have some need in his body sated for the first time in a month. So he fished out the office expense card from his desk (luckily he had never kept it in his wallet, which was long gone by now) and went to order delivery from the shop down the street, feeling no energy to actually walk anywhere. But the order had been refused and a helpful email later informed him that the card had been shut down for ‘suspicious activity.’ The suspicious activity, of course, being his pesky human needs. 

_Fuck._ Any thought of heading home was out of the question- Elias had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he didn’t currently have one. Unsurprising, after months on the run and staying with Georgie. And Georgie was no longer an option- she hadn’t been pleased with his decisions as of late. So that left him in his current situation- homeless, and fucking starving.

_Ah, the glamorous life of a Head Archivist._

He couldn’t stomach asking Elias for help on that account. After learning the man had done very little to get him away from the circus, he didn’t think he could handle another conversation with him unless it involved physical violence. Melanie would inflict said violence on him, so that was a no. Tim was a nonstarter. And his tentative friendship with Basira had grown to open hostility after her recruitment to the archives. So that left Martin- the only person who seemed to still have some sort of affection for him, maybe. Hopefully enough that he could spare a dollar or two for food.

It was embarrassing, being reduced to begging. A text would have been the most discreet way of contacting him, but he’d lost his phone as well in his month-long recess. He decided to dial his office extension and willed him to pick up- after three rings, he did.

“J-Jon? Is everything okay? We haven’t seen you and I’ve been so worried-” Martin’s frantic voice came through the speaker of the phone, as well as some background cursing from Tim as he seemed to snatch the phone out of Martin’s hand and take over.

“Hey there, _boss-man._ Either you come the fuck out here to talk, or rot in your office like the coward you are. Thanks _so much!_ ” The line went dead.

Well, that was productive. His hunger won out against his dignity, though, and he decided to face the firing squad. Even if it was just for a fucking burger.

The door to his office creaked open conspicuously and he slowly made his way to the room that housed his assistants’ desks. Basira studiously ignored him, flipping the pages of a book, and Melanie was currently scratching something into the surface of her desk with a particularly sharp knife ( _Fuck Elias Bouchard,_ he suddenly knew). Tim had stood up at his desk, eyes laced with a predatory gleam while Martin fidgeted at his, his face a mix of concern and anxiety.

“So what was that you needed, Jon? It’s only been what- a _month_ since you’ve decided to grace us with your presence?”

Jon swallowed thickly and his legs began to shake at the hostility in Tim’s tone. “I-I was actually just- I n-needed to ask-”

“I-I-I” Tim stuttered back at him mockingly and Melanie didn’t try to stifle her laugh. “C’mon now boss, we're all _friends_ here! No need to be so scared!” His words very clearly implied the opposite; Martin had stood up, hands hovering uselessly as he remained silent. Jon cast his eyes to the floor, trying to mask the hurt in them. They already hated him- what use did he have for dignity now?

“I-I wanted to get lunch, but I don’t h-have any m-money.” _Christ_ , that sounded pathetic. It _was_ pathetic. Tim and Melanie seemed to agree, if the ensuing laughter was anything to go by. Basira had closed her book, clearly listening in, and the pity on Martin’s face was too much to bear. Jon’s mind short-circuited as his breathing started to quicken. It had been stupid, _so stupid_ , he should’ve just asked Elias, should’ve just stolen something from the break room, anything not to have to face the derision of people he once called friends. People who once used to beg him to open up, talk about things, ask for help, _trust them_. But of course they didn’t want that now, it was too late. And who was he to deserve it?

“What, have you been gallivanting around the world _pro bono_ ?” A shaky inhale- _go back to your office, just move-_

“Guys, I really don’t think-”

“-really begging _us_ for scraps-”

Were the lights always this bright? The room this small and claustrophobic? 

“-as if you weren’t the one who just _trapped_ us here-”

“Stop it, you guys aren’t being fair- that was Elias, not Jon-”

“Just go home if you’re that desperate-” _I don’t have one. I don’t have one._

“I don’t have one,” he found himself saying aloud, chest heaving. Was he crying? He couldn’t tell, but he was certainly the one making the most noise in the now silent room. “The circus- they, th-they had me, and I don’t, I-I don’t-”

“Circus?” Tim cut in sharply, marching across the room and grabbing him by the shoulders. “The circus had you? What do you know? _Tell me what you fucking know.”_ Tim shook him rather violently, hands gripping him like the hands that touched and grabbed and squeezed and that _laughter-_

“ _Tim!”_ A shout cut through his mental spiral, Martin’s. He realized he’d been whispering “don’t touch me, don’t touch me,” but he couldn’t find it within himself to stop. Tim looked down at him with both pity and disgust. “You’re scaring him, let go. _Now._ ” Tim’s arms reluctantly dropped from his shoulders and Jon collapsed to the ground, a pile of shaking limbs and over-sized clothes as he hastily backed into a corner, hitting the wall with a thud. The room had gone even quieter, if possible, and Jon became very aware of each labored breath and heaving sob that came from his mouth. Martin had moved to kneel down at his side, hands hovering above him in an uncertain manner. Jon could see his mouth forming words, his brow furrowed in concern, but nothing reached him save for a ringing in his ears. And then, nothing.

  
  


He awoke sometime later, laid horizontally on the cot in Document Storage with Martin sitting anxiously by his side. He felt warm, comfortable in a way he hadn’t felt in months. As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, he noticed he was covered in no less than three cardigans as well as a blanket. He knew two of them were Martins, and the third sort of looked like one Tim owned, but he knew that couldn’t be true. Martin urged him to lay back down with a gentle hand that Jon was too weak to fight off. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he managed to croak out. He didn’t know precisely what he was apologizing for- the scene, being gone, this whole shit-show of a job. He hoped it encompassed everything. Martin shook his head- his eyes had hardened, but Jon could tell the anger wasn’t for him.

“A month,” he bit out, voice shaking with barely contained rage. “The circus had you for a _month_ , and Elias said _nothing._ ” He barked out a disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his curls and shaking his head. “You’d think I’d be used to this by now. And yet, every time he manages to surprise me by being an even bigger asshole than I thought possible. Fucks’ sake.” Jon wasn’t used to such strong words from the man, so he stayed silent and stared back at him, willing his body to stop shaking. He wasn’t afraid of him, he _knew_ that. But it had been so long since he’d heard anger that wasn’t directed at him that his body no longer knew the difference. Martin immediately softened upon noticing this; the next words came out calmer but no less sincere.

“You can stay with me,” Martin held up a hand as Jon moved to refuse. “No arguing. When you’re feeling better, we’re going home, I’m making _dinner,_ and we’re going to have a _normal fucking night_.” Jon nodded, gazing up at him with wide eyes. He knew Martin had always been capable, despite the fussing and the soft exterior. Seeing him take charge like this was admirable, and Jon felt a warm feeling in his chest that he had no interest in identifying. Martin smiled, and the room felt brighter and lighter than it had any right to be. 

“And then we’re going to have a word with Elias regarding your back-pay. Reckon we could probably ask for your time and a half rate, yeah?” Despite himself, Jon smiled back at him. 

“Maybe even double,” he agreed weakly. Martin laughed, a joyful thing that Jon wanted to hear again and again. 

He wasn’t okay. It would be quite some time before he would ever go back to something that resembled normal. But for tonight, at least, he had a home.

And maybe someone to share it with. 

**Author's Note:**

> And we've made it to the end! Thanks for sticking with me, folks. Still have some ideas in this brain of mine, but probably won't be releasing them at the rate of one per day. Let me know if you liked! You can reach me @ voiceless-terror on tumblr.
> 
> Thanks again!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dispossessed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292337) by [Janekfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janekfan/pseuds/Janekfan)




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